


Nine

by Celebrusc



Series: There is Power in Threes [1]
Category: Labyrinth (1986), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celebrusc/pseuds/Celebrusc
Summary: Everyone agrees there is something not quite right about Obi-Wan Kenobi. They all know it, even if they can’t say why.OrObi-Wan is nine the first time he walks the streets of the Goblin City, the first time he meets the Goblin King. It doesn't change anything, except perhaps him.





	Nine

Obi-Wan is nine (three by three) the first time he meets the Goblin King. A full moon shines alone in the eternally lit skies of Coruscant. The initiates had been studying Darthominian folk customs that afternoon in their class on the cultures of other Force users. Bruck had broken a precious artifact in the teacher’s absence, then proceeded to blame it on Obi-Wan. The teacher had not believed his denial. “With behaviour like this, maybe the Goblins should take you,” the Master taking the class had declared. Half jest to reassure him, but that meant they were half sincere at the seriousness of the crime.

“Hey, Oafy-wan.” Bruck had called that night, safe in their dorm. “Maybe tonight Goblins will take you away. You’d fit right in with them.”

Obi-Wan had clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and forced himself to not retaliate. He had already been refused that night’s sweet, and forced to clean the common area. All for something he had not done.

That night cold and alone, Obi-Wan gazed longing out the window at the moon, hugging himself close. “You know what I wish?” He asked the stars he couldn’t see. “I wish, I wish the Goblin King _would_ take me away to the Goblin Kingdom. At least there I’d know I was wanted.”

Deep at the heart of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, an old water clock completed its final cycle for the day. When the final chime fell silent, the only things in the bed by the window are a small round crystal - clear and pure as a drop of moonlight - and a single stray feather.

 

Obi-Wan wakes in the softest bed he has ever known, snuggled deep into a pile of furs. He is so comfy that the lingering warmth of sleep threatens to pull him back under before he realises that something is very wrong. The window next to him is far too large, big enough it runs the length of the bed. Through it he can see a huge twisting maze, and beyond that a forest that stretches beyond his sight. To his surprise the window is open, there is no barrier to keep things in or out. A fresh breeze carries the scent of wood smoke and new leaves. High above him - much higher than that of his dorm room, closer to the height of the training salles - the ceiling stretches away. The walls are unadorned rough yellow stone, the blocks of various sizes. Yet when he puts runs his fingers along it out of curiosity, it’s as smooth as polished glass.

Curiosity wins over comfort. There is an old fashioned wooden door the likes of which he’s only seen in holos set in the far wall, and he tugs it open. He doesn’t have a chance to be surprised at how light it is, because no sooner has he opened the door than a green being, that looks so similar to Master Yoda he wonders if they’re related, grabs his arm and starts tugging him down a set of stairs.

“Oh you’re awake. Finally. Was wondering if you were going to sleep the whole day. Come one, this way. Everyone is eager to meet you.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t have a chance to get a word in as he is dragged by chattering creature after chattering creature - all eager and exuberant at meeting him - along stairwells and bridges without sides. There is no way that he’ll be able to find his way back, and before he’s managed to get his head around the fact that the door they entered had been on the equivalent of the floor he finds himself seated at a rough wooden table in a main hall crowded with the beings, a bowl of his favourite stew in front of him, the table piled high with fruits and breads.

He’d been enjoying himself so far, caught up in the excitement of the creatures and the strangeness of the place, but as they urge him to eat up he feels like he’s been dunked in cold water.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Eat up!”

“Eat up, eat up!” The cries go up around him.

He hesitates. Up until now he had been assuming this was a dream, but he remembers their lessons in class the day before. Remembers what he’d said just before he’d gone to sleep. He sets the bowl down.

“No thank you. I’m not hungry.” Because manners are important. As important as not eating or drinking anything, or accepting something that was not freely given. Or refusing something that was.

“Liar! Liar!” The cries went up. “Don’t be silly, of course you are.” The creatures crowd around him, the sound pressing down on him, pushing him. It feels almost like a raw force compulsion driving him to eat.

“If the food not to your liking?” A very different sounding voice, like the sound of tinkling glass, asks softly from behind him. And with it the pressure was gone.

Obi-Wan spins around in his seat, almost falling off his stool and knocking over the table behind him in his shock. Around him the creatures, goblins if he is correct, rear back, then surge forward to crowd around the strangely dressed man who has just appeared. Blocking his view and leaving Obi-Wan with only the impression of wildness, power, and glitter.

“He won’t eat! He won’t eat!”

“Yes.” The man says fondly. “I had noticed. Now away with you, you’re crowding him.”

Within moments the rooms clears, and Obi-Wan finds himself alone with what can only be the ruler of the Realm he’s found himself in.

The man picks up a chair and spins it round. Sitting with his arms crossed on the back.

“Now tell me, dear child, what seems to be the problem?”

“You’re the Goblin King!”

The man chuckles. “Why yes, I am. But that doesn’t answer my question, Obi-Wan.”

“You know my name?” He blurts out.

“Of course I know your name, child. This is my realm after all.”

“I need to go home.”

The King looks confused. “But you are home. This is your home now. You wished for me to come and take you away, and I did. Here you are loved, wanted. Isn’t that what you asked for?”

“I didn’t mean it.” He cries desperately.

“Oh Obi-Wan.” The King reaches forward and lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “There is no need to lie, we both know that you did.”

Obi-Wan sniffles, suddenly hit by a wave of grief at the realisation that he’ll never see Bant, or Garen or Reeft or even that mad fool Quinlan ever again.

“It’s going to be okay. You’ll be happy here.” The King rose to his feet. “Come along. If you’re truly not hungry I’ll give you the tour.”

 

Different children, Jareth knows, require different handling. Some are wished away by jealous siblings, others by angry and resentful parents. Some by petty childhood rivals, and very occasionally by someone trying to protect them. Soon enough they all forget who they were, where they’ve come from. Twisted and corrupted by the magic of the Realm, they become part of it. But those first weeks, especially for the older children, were a very delicate stage.

It has been quite some time since one of his subjects had wished themselves to him. Those were usually the ones that settled the easiest at first. They themselves had chosen this after all. But apparently his newest subject wasn’t one of them. Apparently the boy knew something about the Other, but not a lot. Just enough to be a nuisance. Jareth sighed. This boy was going to give him a head ache. He just knew it.

 

By the time they returned to the castle, Obi-Wan was both dizzy and famished. Though he wasn’t sure if the former was because of the latter. He’d had a whirlwind visit of the Goblin Kingdom. From the bog of stench to the fireys, the oubliettes to the town itself. And none of it made sense. Gravity seemed to change direction on a whim. Doors that had gone one place suddenly went another. This whole world was mad, it didn’t seem to follow any rules.

“Of course there are rules.” The King had replied when Obi-Wan had mentioned it. “Everything has to follow rules, it’s a case of knowing what the rules _are_.”

But they were back in the Castle now, the table heaving with food that Obi-Wan refused to eat. He’d find a way home yet. But the one Rule he knew was that if he ate anything from this Realm, he’d become part of it. The lack of food was making him short tempered and irritated. Which he did feel sorry for. One of the smaller goblins had curled up by his side and had taken to petting his hair in an attempt to sooth him.

“You really are quite stubborn, aren’t you?” The King spoke up from where he was lounging in the broad low backed chair that served as his throne. “It’s not poisoned you know.”

“But if I eat it will I be able to leave?”

“You can’t leave any way.” The King pointed out.

Obi-Wan set his jaw and looked away stubbornly.

Several long minutes later the King spoke again. “Oh fine, here.” He tossed a peach, which Obi-Wan snatched out of the air on instinct. “It’s freely given.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “Eat you foolish boy.” The King rose smoothly to his feet, and stepped forward to ruffle Obi-Wan’s hair.” No child goes hungry in my halls. I told you, you are wanted here”

 

 

Days pass, and Obi-Wan comes to resign himself to living within the Goblin Kingdom. He makes friends with doors, birds and a whole host of different Goblins. Learns how to open doors, and how to open them again. Learns that gravity does indeed change on a whim. The whim of the King. That saying _his_ name (not that anyone will tell him what it is) or title is to call _his_ attention. Obi-Wan is indeed wanted, and when he looks for something to do, to help, because that is what a Jedi does, he finds that there are plenty of jobs that need doing. There are medics, soldiers, seamstresses, and tavern owners. Cleaners, and _decorations_ of all things. And everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. Each night and morning Obi-Wan meditates on the path he’s found himself on. Finally, Obi-Wan makes his decision. He sits himself down at the breakfast table - not that there are set meal times here - jockeying with Aerid and Toffin for space. He reaches for one of the peaches the King is so very fond of. Making eye contact with his Lord across the table, Obi-Wan slowly, and very deliberately, takes a deep bite.

A cheer goes up around him.

Obi-Wan grins. His King smiles faintly and raises his goblet in acknowledgment just before Obi-Wan is swept under by the celebrating goblins around him.

For all that he’ll miss his friends, this is his home now.

Here, he is wanted.

 

But the Force has other ideas.

 

Night after night he wakes up screaming. Obi-Wan’s gift of prescience has only just begun to awaken, but he can recognise a Force Vision when he’s seeing it for the twelfth time in as many days. His new friends notice the change the interrupted sleep is causing, as does his King. He is offered the chance to give up dreaming, give up sleep. But for all that the joy and giddiness around him soothes his worries. For all that this world shines, for all the air half tastes of sherbet when it blows from the east and the fruits shine like gemstones, he remembers his lessons. Remembers no matter how friendly his new family are, such things would not come without a price, and he can already feel his humanity slipping away at the edges. Instead of accepting his King’s offer, he makes lesser deals with knockers and hats and stone lions. All to find out what is going on.

Every night he dreams of a boy with hair like sand and eyes as blue as the kyber crystals resting in the training sabre Obi-Wan still clings to. Dreams of a man with long wild hair half mad with grief, dying over and over in a thousand different places a thousand different ways. He watches the boy grows older until his hair is as dark as scorched earth and his eyes burn red. The galaxy burning around him. Obi-Wan doesn’t understand it, only knows that they need him. Somehow. That he has to save them.

So he goes to his King, and begs to be allowed to return. But there is nothing to be done, this is his home now.

Obi-Wan doesn’t accept this as an answer, instead throwing himself into the King’s library with a zeal that hasn’t been seen here. He learns every scrap of lore, every Law he can get his hands on. Eventually the King tosses him out, insisting that he get some fresh air and exercise. There is a hint of panic and worry sparking in the King’s normally unreadable eyes, and that is what finally convinces Obi-Wan to take a break.

He wanders the Realm, detached and unfocused. Letting his feet lead him where they may. It’s a dangerous thing to do, he realises when he finds he’s wandered right up to the Hedge itself. Though maybe if he heads through it…

“You’ll not be wanting to go that way.” A voice interrupts him.

“I’m sorry?” He turns to find he’s been snuck up on. Though now his attention has been called to it, he’s not sure how he could miss the smell of the creature standing behind him. Far worse than anything he’s ever smelled before. The being is taller than any Goblin he’s met, its clothes better made, and covered with lots of small sparkly things. Trinkets hang from its wrists and its belt.

“I said, you’ll not be wanting to go that way. Bad things happen to those who travel the Hedge unescorted.”

“Unescorted by whom?”

“Why one of the Lords and Ladies of course. Who are you anyway? What you doing out here?”

“I’m Ben,” Obi-Wan replies. Because one thing he was learned in his reading is the power of a name. “And I was trying to find a way back to the Mortal Realm. Who are you?”

“I’m Hoggle.” The being says, puffing its chest out. “Prince of the Bog of Eternal Stench. I’ll say you’re far from the first, though I can never understand why. No one want to run the Labyrinth for you?”

“No one to run the Labyrinth for me.” Obi-Wan explains. “I wished myself here.”

“Then what do you want to go and leave for?”

“There is something I’m needed to do, I think.”

“You think? Aren’t very confident are you. Still, if you want to leave the Realm that much why don’t you just run the Labyrinth yourself?”

Obi-Wan blinks. “Run it myself?” He asks curiously. He’d never heard of anyone doing that.

“Sure, you’re the one that wished you away after all.”

It does, in fact, make a strange sort of sense. Exactly the sort of sense that the Realm worked on. He darts forward and seizes Hoggle in a fierce hug. “Thank you.”

 

Obi-Wan immediately returns to the library, with new focus and determination. He has the skeleton of an idea, now he just has to flesh it out.

 

When the boy had darted off, Hoggle shook his head. “At least the Labyrinth’ll be a bit safer than risking the Hedge. If only a bit. Boy’s a strange one, no doubt about it. Still think it’s a daft idea, wanting to return to the mortal world. Pah. Don’t know what Jareth is thinking with that one.”

“What I’m thinking,” Jareth said, stepping out from behind a rock, making Hoggle jump, “is none of your concern. Now what did you tell him?”

“Oh nothing much really. Just talked him out of wandering off into the Hedge.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Hoggle stuttered. “He’s all twisted up about getting back to the Mortal Realm. Sent him on back to the castle.”

“Is that so? That better have been all it was, Higgle. I may have granted you a title, but you still reside within my Realm. And you had best not forget it.”

 

The sun rises and sets as Obi-Wan throws himself back into his research, though how many times he couldn’t have said. The order of the books made as much sense as the rest of the realm, and every text no matter how plainly written contained layer upon layer of riddle. It wasn’t all in languages Obi-Wan was familiar with, but he becomes familiar. His eyes burn, the text swims. There were times like it feels like his brain is stretching and rearranging itself with the amount of work he is doing.

Finally, _finally_ , he thinks he has the answer.

The King looks up at the knock on the door to his study. “More questions, Obi-Wan?”

He takes a deep breath. “No, my Lord. Its time I returned to the Mortal Realm.”

“And how _exactly_ do you propose to do that? You’ve asked me to return you many times, you know my answer.”

“It is the Law that anyone who wishes someone to the Goblin Kingdom has thirteen hours to run the Labyrinth to earn their return. I wished myself here, I wish to run the Labyrinth to earn my freedom.”

“It has been more than thirteen hours since you arrived here, Obi-Wan.”

“An hour is what you make it, an hour on Coruscant is not the same as an hour on Tatooine. Besides, the clock doesn’t start when I enter the realm, it starts when I begin the race.”

“True enough,” the King agrees tilting his head in thought, “but you’ve eaten at my table. You belong to the Realm now.”

“The children you take all eat as the Wishers run the Labyrinth. The completion of the Labyrinth negates that contract.”

“Very well.” The King suddenly materialises standing behind him, a clock dangling from his fingers. “You’ve given me three reasons, you’ve made your case. It is the Law after all, and who am I to argue with the Law. From the moment you leave this office you have thirteen hours to run the Labyrinth. Not to reach the Castle, but to reach the Gate.” The King pauses and lowers himself down to Obi-Wan’s level, running his free hand through Obi-Wan’s hair before coming to rest as a comforting weight on his shoulder. His voice turning soft. “You don’t have to do this, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan raises his head to meet the King’s ever changing eyes. “Yes, I do.”

The King holds his gaze for a long moment before giving a small nod. He rise back to his feet with a fluidity that Obi-Wan can only envy. “As you wish.” He snaps his fingers, the clock - hanging now unsupported in the air - starts ticking. “Thirteen hours. On you go then.”

Obi-Wan runs.

 

It takes Obi-Wan seven hours to reach the gate. The Labyrinth was built, after all, to keep people out, not in. His time in the Realm has taught him its quirks and its Rules. To be careful of what he says, and what he hears. At first, his friends are happy to speed him on his way, but as word spreads of what he is doing, more and more attempts are made to hinder him. He doesn’t blame them, he doesn’t want to leave them either. But there are things he has to do.

He stands panting outside the Gate having only barely managed to talk himself out of having to stay for tea and scones with the darling worms, dashing away before any further arguments could be made for him to do so.

“Impressive,” the King compliments him, making Obi-Wan jump as the man steps out from behind a tree that was is width of Obi-Wan’s forearm. “I’m not surprised though. You’re capable of great things.”

Obi-Wan feels himself flush at the unfamiliar praise. “Thank you, Sir.”

The King hesitates. “It’s not too late to change your mind, Obi-Wan. Stay here, be happy. Surely you’ve seen how little our people want you to leave.”

“I know. But I have to do this. Thank you, for everything.” He means it, he really does. The Goblin Realm is wonderful, and if it wasn’t for the Force visions he’d have gladly stayed. He’d never felt as at home as he did here. But he has a duty.

“Very well.”

The King twists his hand, one of his glass balls rolling along the back of it. Then he twisted it again and the ball drops and drops and drops. Shrinking until it is the size of a marble dangling on a fine silver chain. He loops it over Obi-Wan’s head. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” There is a pause. “How do I leave?”

“Why the same way you got here of course.” The King steps aside to reveal a datapad lying discarded in the grass. “Through a mirror.”

 

Obi-Wan wakes curled up in his bed, head pillowed on his datapad. That, he decides, had been a very odd dream. Pushing himself to his feet, Obi-Wan pads out into the common area only to be jumped on by Bant, Garen, and Reeft.

“Where have you been?” They demand, faces a mixture of relief and worry.

“What do you mean?”

“Obi, it’s after midday. No one’s been able to find you for hours.” Garen tells him.

“Where did you get that necklace, Obi?” Bant asked, before he could answer.

“Necklace?” His hands shoot up. Sure enough, hanging around his neck was a very familiar marble - maybe it hadn’t been a dream after all. “I’ll tell you later.” It was, after all, a very long story. He’d been gone for far more than mere hours.  “We should probably inform the crèche master that you found me first.”

 

The years pass, Obi-Wan’s memories of his days spent in the Goblin Kingdom quickly fade, but the changes don’t. Languages came just a shade too quickly, his ability to question, to reason, take the oddest tangents. He pulls off gymnastics that shouldn’t be possible. Nothing obvious, just by a shade, a hair. Everyone agrees there is something not right about Obi-Wan Kenobi. They all know it, even if they can’t say why.

Obi-Wan himself no longer feels like he fits in his own skin, the very physics of the world restrictive somehow. The Jedi Temple has always felt like home, where he belongs, until suddenly it doesn’t. All Obi-Wan knows is that he has to be a Jedi Knight. He _has_ to.

And when he sees Qui-Gon Jinn for the first time he knows, somehow, that this man is the most important person in his life.

He can just never quite remember why.


End file.
